


Cut Throat

by Buttered_Toast



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Beards, Cute, F/M, Facial Shaving, Fluff, Unresolved Romantic Tension, cut throat shave
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-16
Updated: 2015-09-16
Packaged: 2018-04-21 03:32:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4813364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Buttered_Toast/pseuds/Buttered_Toast
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He never imagined his tiny chop shop girl would be holding a blade against his throat. He had nightmares about sure a betrayal, but he never imagined the context to be like this. </p><p>After being shot in the shoulder Illya needs help to shave something he hasn't needed since he was fourteen.</p><p>Prompt- Gaby helps Illya shave.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cut Throat

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt- Gaby helps Illya shave, the hold fashioned way with a knife.
> 
> SO here you go hope you enjoy xxxx

Illya scratches at the edges of his face. It’s rough, itchy and frustrating because he isn't able to shave. His left arm throbbed with a dull ache and a twitch in his leg that reminds him he hasn't left the apartment in Madrid for three days while his team lies low. 

He has only been cooped up for three days after leaving the hospital but he can feel the casual claustrophobia encroaching. The itches of cabin fever tickling him like a feather.

But it had been three days and a new problem has arisen as he stared at himself in the mirror, he really needed to shave. As he picks up the coat throat razor he can already feel the trembles shaking his arm, getting more serves the higher his arm went.   
The blade clattered in the porcelain basin with a growl, rolling his injured shoulder back in self punishment.

 

Gabby appeared in the doorway, leaning against the frame “Is something the matter we can hear you huffing and puffing from the next room?”

Illya’s lips pressed into a thin line because this was the first time since he was fourteen that he has not been able to shave on his own and he was not about to admit it now. He feels like he wants to rip the basin from the wall but he also feels like he wants to sink into his bed in defeat, because he can not keep his hand from trembling.

 

“I can’t shave, my hand isn't steady” he says after a small silence in which he swallowed his pride. He hates rolling over in defeat especially over something so simple. His entire life he has been independent and even after working in their dysfunctional team showing weakness was an alien concept. But here he was sat on the edge of the tub with a small shrub growing on his face.

She looks at him, as she often does with a small sweet smile before advancing into the room.  
“I will do it for you” her tone light and breezy as if it was an obvious solution.

 

Illya almost cocks his head confused, waiting for the usual bubble of laughter to erupt from her like it normally does when she teased him. But no laugh came, just a determined face.  
“You, you are going to shave my face?” he asked his accent laced with confusion.  
“Yes” the words came out almost like a demand although her slight frame made every demand she directed at him muted.

Illya doesn't like to accept favours. If you owed someone a favour in Russia it wasn't a good thing. The idea of Gabby holding a razor sharp blade near his throat as she glided it across his skin didn't sound too safe. The idea of anyone but himself holding a sharp object near his throat seemed out of the question and yet he finds himself unscrewing the lid to his shaving cream and giving the badger haired brush a shake before handing it to her. 

With a wide smile she ushered him away from the sink before grabbing a flannel and holding it beneath the hot tap.

But the second the flannel hit his face a new danger cropped up, his East German chop shop girl was practically pressed up against him dabbing a cloth along his beard her warm breath tickling his neck. He hadn't noticed he was holding his breath until she pulled away to rise the brush beneath the water.  
“You need to be more careful in the field” Gaby’s voice said as she made a lather with the cream before turning back round to see her Russian. “I am serious it may have been a bullet wound to your shoulder, but a few inches over…” she didn't finish her sentence instead sniffed the air and moved closer to him before moving the brush in a painting motion over his facial hair.   
A large encased the wrist of her painting hand.  
“Gaby …” his voice was quiet and fluttered over her like air. “this is a bad idea”  
“Why? Do you not trust me to hold a blade to your throat?” she teased “Because I make you and Solo a pot of tea every morning if I wanted to kill you I’d slip something in your tea”  
“You can be scary” he chuckled slackening his grip. Gaby let out another bell like laugh.  
“Let me do this for you” her voice was soft and held an almost pleading tone, he moved his hand completely before nodding his head.

 

If he was honest this was a nightmare which had plagued him many times, his back pressed again the small German as she held a blade to his throat. However in his dreams the blade cut throat the skin and blood spilled out before he woke up in a slight sweat. But now his small chop shop girl held a slither of sharpened steel again his throat but instead of the blade seeping into the skin it softly grazed from his neck and along his cheek bone before clanging again the basin as the water cleaned it. 

 

The process took about 20 minutes he was sat on the cold tiled floor as she sat on the edge of the bath and he never thought the repetitive motion of something so sharp and deadly grazing across him would be so soothing.

 

“All done, how does it feel?” Gaby asked while she emptied the sink and cleaned the blade.  
Illya ran a hand over his chin and up his cheek.   
“Smooth” his accent was thick and almost heavy sounding in what had been a silent room.  
Gaby just turned and smile, a glint shone in her eye.   
“May I feel my hand work?” she asked in German with a devilish smile. Illya tilted his chin out in response and Gaby smiled getting up on her toes before running a hand along his jaw line, once again Illya’s hand caught her wrist tugging her closer slightly.  
“Thank you” his voice ghosted across her face as it gravitated closer towards her. Gaby’s eyes darted to his lips and she swallowed lightly.  
“You are very welcome” her tongue wetting her lips. But before they could touch a loud thud sounded on the door and Napoleon’s voice sounded through and they jumped apart, Illya cursed in Russian.  
But was calmed knowing his shoulder would probably cause trembling for another week or two and he will have to get assistant shaving again.


End file.
